


What Baby Doesn’t Do

by orphan_account



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Author Is A Waste Of Your Time, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Crack, Freaking crack, I didn’t even edit this, Like, Linked Universe, Read this only when you have, That's not an actual tag?, Wow, one (1) hour of sleep in yah, or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24644422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Run while you still can.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	What Baby Doesn’t Do

**Author's Note:**

> Linked Universe is by Jojo56830 on Tumblr, as you know.
> 
> I’m a waste of your time.

Samantha strutted to the store, one arm firmly clasped around a chihuahua. She thought “WOW I FEEL LIKESHIT” and keeled over right then and there, chihuahua and all. 

A sorry end, indeed.

The world met her depressing face, and the threads of darkness looped it’s noose around her neck and pulled. Consciousnesses was no more, and the veil of darkness grasped it’s victim up with greedy claws. 

The Traveller woke up from his dream disoriented, realizing he was absolute baby and had an excuse for it, then went back into the lull of sleep. 

Meanwhile, The Hoarder struggled with his bunny identification crisis dreams and cried softly in his sleep, wishing he could just be some random Samantha on the side of the street instead of the rabbit-ass bastard he was.

“Ah, what a terrible fate.” Old Man whispered from his perch in a tree like some deranged owl, and cooed into the warm summer night’s breeze. 

Then cawing his deepest, darkest sorrows, he launched from his branch and skyrocketed into the starry canvas above. Taking out, once again, his bomb arrows with a non-feathery hand, he fucking yeeted them at the moon.

And the world was golden.

The beautiful ass-crack of dawn on the horizon made even the non-artist, non-photographer, fucking strategist in a literal war but also the damn himbo Captain have a single tear streak down his face, softly whispering words of poetry to the colors swirling in, out,and around his vision.

Oh wait— he was fucking high and seeing things.

The colors blotted together to reveal the vague shape of the concerned Blacksmith shaking his shoulder.

When was Four four?

“-AKE UP! WAKE UP! WA—“

Pain clawed at his temples, and the Captain cried in his native tongue of German, shoving a boot into what he thought was one of the blurry figure’s mouths to shut him up.

“GNADENLOS UND NICHT MEHR ALS EINE WOCHE SPÄTER DIE MÖGLICHKEIT!!” 

It was not, that was a tree capt’n. He missed.

“Mercy and not one more week than later possibly... What the literal hell does that even mean?!”

“Um ah throuut fuish,” Captain slurred, and rolled over to let the putrid dinner leave his system like fire from a dragon’s mouth...Or the Hoader’s native fish people. Which said Veteran was still crying softly about his bunny dilemma, and maybe his dead dream girlfriend he accidentally murdered.

And the Old Man was no where to be seen.

For, in reality, Capt’n realised he was never higher than a kite, but that he was poisoned in his sleep.

“GMMTOFFA ME YOU SCAKKY WAGG’N SCUM OF A DAMN SHIP!!”

All eyes who were currently open and awake—Veteran, Blacksmith, and even Captain—turned to the high-pitched screeching of the one-and-only twelve bloomin’ year old child in the group, and exasperation painted itself on each of their features.

Captain, with a dramatic sigh, closed his eyes. Taking a shuddering breath through his annoyance and love for the kid, he reopened his eyes to the pirate who currently had a wolf mauling on his forearm.

Kids these days just don’t have that same respect as they use to.

“...Pirate, we told you countless times to never interrupt your elders. You know it’s wrong.”

The boy did not respond, and just simply cried out in pain, to the pained annoyance of the others.

With an eye roll, Captain craned his bent over head to face up to the expression of the only—well, now four—blacksmith. Grimacing, the red one looked away and took out an even more red rod.

“Where were we again?”

“...I believe you were not about to burn me alive, and I think I was throwing up because I was poisoned, not hallucinating, and most certainly not high.”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, uhm. Thank—“

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—“

“SHUSH UP, PIRATE. WHAT DID I SAY—“

“Uhm, guys—“

“—YOU AREN’T EVEN LISTENING TO ME YOU UNGRATEFUL—“

“Guys—“

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—“

“SHADDUP!!!”

Heads swivelled to face a bleary-eyed Sky looking more like a very peeved mother than the grumpy teenager he was.”

“I’m trying to sleep. Wild and Hyrule are trying to sleep, too. Be considerate...And knock it off.”

Guilt washed over the Captain, Blacksmiths, and Veteran. Even Pirate looked guilty, giving the Wolf a side glance in regret as it mauled his shoulder. 

“What the literal fuck, Wolfie. Geddoff of Pirate.” 

Champion was awake and, for once, he was not the main gremlin.

“Oh thank the goddesses! GET THIS FUCKING THING OFFA ME!!”

Champion surveyed the scene in front of him—The Hoarder was crying softly in his bedroll, the four Blacksmiths standing frozen, ready to bolt, Captain curled on the ground with stink wafting from underneath him, Sky climbing into a tree to conquer his quest for seven hours of sleep, and Pirate looking with pleading, hopeful eyes as Wolfie continued his early breakfast—

And pulled out his Shiekah Slate, running past them, then disappeared into the darkness of the woods.

A silent tear fell down Pirates face, tracing a wet trail down to his chin, and plopped on the floor. Everything he hoped for in that single bundle of wetness, now soaking into the parched earth below. 

Forgotten and lost.

Meanwhile, Traveller slept blissfully in his little nook under a tree, softly dreaming of fairy parties and buttered bagels. 

Remembering that he was baby, he did not wake up. And continued his quest of perfect sleep.

Even when the cries of Pirate became screams, when the faint hum of wind became a roaring, blazing fire, and even when the sounds of barfing became more intense— 

The sleeper did not wake.

For as you know, dear reader, he truly is baby.

And baby has an excuse.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. You made it through. I’m impressed.


End file.
